


Somewhat Sort of In Love With You

by taylorswift



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, RPF - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Jealous Jeremy, Jealousy, Originally Posted on Tumblr, i have no idea what to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-24 16:11:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3775057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylorswift/pseuds/taylorswift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't like seeing anyone else near her; especially not even if they're the only other person she's closest to in a good fifty mile radius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhat Sort of In Love With You

**Author's Note:**

> Request from Tumblr, in which Jeremy is drunk and has never hated Chris Evans more.

I’m sure somewhere in me, I possess the strength to crush the glass that’s currently in my hand, but because of the fact that I’m attempting to be on my best behavior, I don’t try anything. I’d love to, don’t get me wrong, but I settle for constantly rewrapping my fingers around my drink with white knuckles. One wrong move and I’ll owe Evans a new glass.

Across the room, sitting on the sofa is my somewhat sort of girlfriend, next to none other than the man of the hour. Somewhat sort of girlfriend named Scarlett Johansson is also somewhat sort of  _way too close_  for my liking to the man of the hour named Christopher Evans, and just the sight of them sends another surge of anger rushing through me. I don’t understand why this is happening—well, actually I do, I just don’t understand the logic behind it.

My somewhat sort of girlfriend has been avoiding me for the past several days, and it’s not too hard to distinguish it either. Scarlett’s intentions will be screaming off of her, loud and clear, when her mouth doesn’t even open at all. She’s definitely trying to make her way around me, no matter how impossible I may make it for her. I see her on set, and she beelines for the opposite direction or acts as though I don’t exist when I call her name. It’s as though I’m all of a sudden some teenage boy that looks at her like a meal and is one step shy of jacking off to a picture of her. It isn’t like she’s going to explain herself either; I can hardly get her to hold her attention in my direction for five seconds.

Instead, it’s like she’s now best friends with Evans. I guess it makes sense; the movies that they’ve done together continues to stack up as the years go on and if anyone knows her on this set better than anyone, it’d have to be him. Although it would be a lot less irritating if she wasn’t always huddled up to him, leaning up against him, their chairs side by side during every take, as if if they weren’t beside each other every moment the world would fall apart. I don’t know what sort of angle she’s playing at, but I’m determined to get to the bottom of it. That is, if I can even get close enough for her to start talking.

Her eyes skirt around Evans’ body to get a quick glimpse at me, something oddly solemn about her. My line of sight catches hers and as if she’d been caught, her eyes dart back down almost instantly.  _She’s definitely hiding something._

I guess I must have been still staring hard in her direction, because Mark taps me on the shoulder and nearly sends me straight down to the floor. He laughs, like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen. “Damn, Renner, you on another planet or something?” he says amusedly. I force a smile onto my lips.

“Might be,” I reply. Figuring that I have nothing left to lose, I tilt my head in the direction of the sofa she and Evans are occupying. “You know what’s up with her?”

Mark shrugs. “No clue, man. You tried asking her?”

“Please, every time her Renner radar goes off, she goes off the grid,” I dispel, twirling the barely-there contents of my drink around in the glass. “I figured she’s probably talking to everyone else though, because really, why not?” The scorn is evident in my voice, a clear jest at her behaviors.

“You know her and Evans are practically the same person, you can’t hold that against her,” he chastises me, and my head shoots up.

One of my eyebrows quirking in dismay, I open my mouth again. “Can’t I? I mean, she and I are somewhat sort of together, you’d think she’d come to, oh I don’t know,  _the man she’s actually with_.” Mark gives me another look.

“Maybe it’s beyond you, maybe she feels like she can only talk to him about it.”

“I doubt that.”

Truth be told, I get the feeling I know what all of the cold shoulder, silent act is really about. It’s about her, it’s about me, it’s about the  _incredibly_  active sex life we have with one another, and it’s about the fear of it becoming more. I doubt she’s going to step out and admit if it’s that or something else, but I have my suspicions and theories.  

Mark gives another one-shouldered shrug, taking a swig of the beer in his hand. “You’ll never know until you talk to her,” he informs me cryptically.

I reach out, gripping his shoulder. “Thanks man, but we all know I’m going to need a lot more alcohol in me if I go talk to her.” He laughs as I make my way to the kitchen to fix myself another drink.

There’s no one else in the kitchen, so I’m left alone with my thoughts as I lean against the counter and try to iron things out in my head while downing something incredibly strong. Scarlett means a lot more to me than I let on, and maybe that’s come around to bite me in the ass. Now here she is, glued to ol’ Captain America’s side and it’s near impossible to get her away from him.  _Ah, so you’re jealous._  Jealous of Chris Evans? No, jealous of the fact that I’m suddenly something you scrape off the bottom of your shoe and he’s Jesus or something.  _Ruffalo’s right though, you’ll never know what’s up if you don’t just talk to her._

I finish my drink, ambling back into the living room with no true game plan as to how I’m going to go about talking to her without her expected flight taking place. As I walk into the room and my eyes settle on the couch, I have to admit I’m pleasantly surprised to see that it’s now currently vacant on Scarlett and Chris’s end, with Tom sprawled in their place as he attempts to work the remote. The pleasant aspect fades as quickly as it came on.

So not only am I well on my way drunk, I’m stuck playing a one-sided game of hide-and-seek with my somewhat sort of girlfriend and the best friend that’s getting way too close for comfort. This day just continues to bear gifts.

I begin prowling through the hallways of Chris’s house, trying to figure out what room they could possibly be in. Every step I take, I can feel the anger beginning to build inside my chest. Really, what is so goddamn top secret with her that the only person she feels like she can tell is  _him_? It’s not as though we’re trading government secrets, it’s certainly not as though she can’t trust me or be comfortable around me. For god’s sake, we’ve gotten naked in more than one way with each other.

My vision’s blurring in shades of red—probably the alcohol amplifying the jealousy into rage—as I hear the faint murmur of voices coming from the room on the end of the hall.  _Jackpot._  My pace quickens and my steps are heavier, the sound of their conversations growing louder. I stop right as my hand hovers over the door knob, leaning in to listen to the conversation.

“I’ve  _tried_ , I just don’t know what to do anymore,” Scarlett chokes out, her voice sounding thicker than usual. She’s on the verge of tears, I can tell it. “If it were easy we would not be having this conversation.”

“Scarls, I…I’m not sure what you want for me to do,” Chris replies, evidently worn down. “It’s not like I can tell him; that’s between the two of you and no one else.”

Yep, that’s it.

Twisting on the door knob so forcefully that for a moment, the fear of it snapping off flickers through my mind, I burst into the room completely unannounced, and more than likely, unwelcome. Scarlett and Chris are sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand resting on her back as she keels over, head buried in her hands. The both of them look up, Scarlett almost instantly looking back down once she realizes that it’s little old me, coming in to crash the party. The look on her face is enough to tell me that she’s a few seconds away from crying.

“What the hell is going on,” I growl. Scarlett turns away, her hand hiding her face. Chris looks as though he’s about to intervene and I hold my hand up to stop him. “No offense, Evans, but I’m not really interested in hearing anything that comes out of your mouth.”

Both of his hands lift in innocence. “Understood, man,” he agrees cautiously, and can sense I’m on the verge of exploding. He then turns to the one person I’m in here for, the very person that’s doing everything she can to make herself less visible and ignore me into oblivion. “Scarlett.” The tempting in his voice is a push for her to join the conversation, but she makes no move.

“Can we have a moment alone?” I ask, my voice strangled. I’m quickly losing what little bit of patience I had left in me. Chris rests one of his hands on her shoulders, nudging her.

“Scar, you gonna be okay?” he whispers, and she responds by removing the hand from her face and gently shrugging his arm off of her. I still can’t see her face thanks to the curtain of red, though. Chris slowly stands up and running his hands down the sides of his thighs. “You know where I am if you need me.”

My death glare follows him out the door, and the minute it shuts, Scarlett finally opens her mouth. “What the fuck is wrong with you,” she growls, and she’s suddenly no longer the fragile little girl Chris was comforting a few seconds ago. I knew the minute he headed out of here, the tables would turn on their heads. She’s sticking to her whole avoiding me ploy, and by god is she willing to go down with it. I turn back around, staring at her in disbelief.

“What’s wrong with me?” I reiterate, dumbfounded. “What’s wrong with  _you_? Every time I come within a fifty foot radius, you run away like I’ve got the damn plague or something.”

“What I do,” she says, rising up from the edge of the bed. “Shouldn’t concern you.”

“Hate to crush your dreams, sweetheart, but news flash—it does,” I sneer. “Especially when you’re running into the arms of someone else—“

“Oh give it a rest, Jeremy,” she groans, her head falling back.

“—and you won’t even  _look_ at me!”

I’ve apparently pissed her off even more, because her finger begins jabbing wildly at the cavity of my chest as she starts closing in. In the corners of her eyes, the tears are still there and threatening to spill over. “I’m not the one who comes barging in on conversations, shooting daggers at other people because they come within a few inches of me, I’m not the one who’s drinking like an alcoholic because all of a sudden his  _fuck buddy_  isn’t speaking to him!”

I let out a small laugh, appalled. “Oh, don’t go flattering yourself, baby girl, I wouldn’t waste a good drink over losing a fuck buddy, you included.” I know I’m mostly talk when all of the words come tumbling out of my mouth, but it’s a war of words and she’ll tear me to shreds if I don’t find a backbone and fast.

Scarlett scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Grow up, bastard,” she hisses, trying to walk past me. I might be slightly intoxicated, but I catch her arm before she’s able to storm out. Red hair flies in her face as she looks over her shoulders, the look in her eyes livid. Between clenched teeth, she delivers her threats in a low voice. “Let. Me.  _Go_.”

“Not until you tell me why you and Chris are having secret meetings behind closed doors.”

“Are you jealous?” she accuses.

“Why would I be jealous?” I yell back.

“Because face it, you don’t like the thought of me with anyone else!” I’m too taken aback by her outburst to respond, and she takes the opportunity to explain herself. “I’m not blind, Jeremy, you don’t want me near anyone else because you want me all to yourself, all the time.”

“Well I’ll go cozy up to some other girl, we’ll see how  _you_ feel—“

“Stop avoiding the question!”

“Fine, I’m jealous, I’m jealous of him, I’m jealous of you being around him more than you are me, I’m fucking  _jealous_. Will you be able to sleep better at night now, princess?” I spit out venomously. She turns on her heel to walk out the door and I stop her once again. “Not so fast, you owe me an explanation.”

“What?” she snarls.

“Tell me why you were in here with him.”

“That,” Scarlett says in a dangerous voice. “Is none of your business.”

“Like hell it is.” I bring up my other hand to grab onto her free arm, taking in her expression. She looks as though she’s about to burst—whether it be in tears or a fit of rage, I’m not sure which will come first. Either way, she’s trembling in my arms. “Was it about me?”

“My god, do you think everything that comes out of my mouth has to do with you?”

I smirk. “So you were talking about me.”

“You don’t know if I was or not!”

“Then look me in the eyes right now and tell me that you weren’t; tell me right now that it didn’t have a damn thing to do with me,” I challenge her, voice louder than normal. She lifts her head, blinking rapidly. She’s still shaking in my grip, but the rigidness of her shoulders has dissipated. It’s then that I see she’s blinking past tears and desperately trying not to cry. To say that I feel like shit is the understatement of the year. “Scarlett—“

“It was about you, okay?” she whimpers. “I couldn’t talk to you or even come near you because I knew if I did, I’d end up messing everything up, our friendship, whatever we have now, all of it. Chris says I’m just crazy, but I’m not; I was scared, I didn’t know what to do, what I would even try to say, or worse, how you’d react—“ I shake my head, hands sliding from her arms down and onto her hips.

“How I’d react to what?” My mind is racing, heart hammering in my chest as I try to comb through my memory and think of what she could possibly be referring to.

“I love you,” she sobs. “I…ever since we started sleeping together, I just, I just  _knew_  that what I felt for you wasn’t something you feel for your friend with benefits and I’d never forgive myself if I messed up our already fragile ground. I didn’t know if friends was what we were sticking to and I never can tell with you, so I thought maybe if I avoid you a little more, if I’m not so attached it’ll go away. I thought that would do it but it’s not working! And I can’t be attached to someone again, it always ends up with me being left alone and so I thought if I never tell you, I’ll always have you—“

I cut her off, one of my hands lifting to cup her face and pressing my lips against hers. Hers are salty with her tears, and it doesn’t take her long to register the surprise. She kisses me back so fiercely that it’s as though she’s scared once I pull away, I’ll be gone forever, her hands wrapping around my neck and holding me close to her. Coming up for air, I wipe away one of her fallen tears with my thumb as I mumble against her lips, “Thought you’d never say it, baby girl.”

“Think anyone will miss us?” she whispers after a moment, pulling farther away. There’s a mischievous glint in her green eyes, and I smirk as my hands snake down to the hemline of her shirt.

“When opportunity knocks.”


End file.
